Dreamland
by Odainath
Summary: After her injuries at the hands of Ian Doyle, Emily slips into a coma. When she wakes the lines between her mind and reality begin to blur. How can she and the team function when she cannot tell what is and what isn't real?
1. Prologue

**Dreamland  
** Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner  
 _After her injuries at the hands of Ian Doyle, Emily slips into a coma. When she wakes the lines between her mind and reality begin to blur. How can she and the team function when she cannot tell what is and what isn't real?_

* * *

 **Author's notes:** This one came to me after I read a fantastic fanfiction (by 'Stretch' and called 'Dreaming of Butterflies' - it is truly wonderful and I would highly recommend it) and thought 'hang on, that could work as a cool Criminal Minds story if…' so I make no claims at originality. But the story just continued from there. I will be using aspects from seasons 7 through to 11 (I have yet to see season 12 though Australian television will catch up soon) but think of this as beginning sometime after 'Lauren.'

* * *

" _Sometimes we need fantasy to escape the reality." – unknown._

* * *

The thrum of the air-conditioning, and the shrill _'ring'_ of JJ's cell phone were what woke Emily that Tuesday morning. She didn't bother opening her eyes as she rolled onto her side and reached out, searching for the phone that lay on the bedside between them. Her mind felt… foggy and she wasn't ready to break into the world of the wakened just yet.

"Jayje?" she called softly, her voice hoarse. Her throat was impossibly dry as well and burned with that one word.

Her mind was becoming more lucid now and she stretched out toward what she thought was the bedside table. Only to be stopped by a bedrail. Her fingers clasped around the cold metal and her eyes snapped open. Over her hand she recognised the outline of the IV, she could feel the needle beneath her skin. As her eyes continued to adjust, she saw the machines at her bedside, the fluid bag hanging from above. The mattress was hard beneath her back and the gown papery against her skin.

She frowned, confused. She was in a hospital.

But why?

"What on earth…?" she breathed.

She pushed herself upright when her eyes found JJ across the room from her, curled up across three hard plastic chairs, using her bag as a pillow and her jacket as a blanket. Her hand searched her jeans pocket for her cell phone.

"Jayje?" Emily called, louder this time.

JJ's eyes snapped open at her voice and she was at Emily's side in seconds, an expression of sheer joy on her face. She flung her arms around Emily's neck and pulled her close. "Em," she breathed, "oh, god, Em."

She reached above Emily's bed with one hand, still not letting her go and pressed a button that sounded an alarm. Footsteps rushed down the corridor and Emily flinched as the fluorescent light from the hallway flooded into her room. JJ was pushed to the side by a male nurse and Emily looked over his shoulder, trying to bat him away as the blonde began dialing. She strained to hear what she was saying but the nurse grabbed her chin and forced her to look forward, shining a torch into her eyes. She reeled back, still trying to hear JJ's voice and caught the words 'Hotch' and 'awake.' Which were comforting, but still didn't answer the question _why_ JJ was here and calling their former unit chief. How long had she been out for?

None of this made any sense.

"Call Doctor Monash _right now_ ," the nurse called over his shoulder as a woman stepped inside. "The patient is awake."

The woman nodded and Emily listened to her retreating footsteps until they faded away. The unnamed nurse had a stethoscope against her chest now, listening to her heart and she flinched as the cold metal brushed against the clover on her breast. She'd wanted to have surgery on the burn but the location had made a skin graft all but impossible. The nurse pushed her gown aside more than she deemed necessary and she glared at him as she pulled back, nudging his hand away.

"I'm just checking your heart," he said gently.

"Well it's strong enough not to want you near me," she snapped harshly.

The nurse clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed, and opened his mouth to retort but another figure entered the room and he immediately retreated. This must be the elusive 'Doctor Monash.' He was tall, almost impossibly thin, much like Reid, his trousers hanging low on his hips and he gave her a reassuring smile as he moved forward.

"Where am I?" Emily asked. "What am I even doing here?"

"Please," Monash responded softly. "A few checks, then I promise we can talk."

Emily glanced over his shoulder, saw JJ in the corner, still talking on her phone. "I want her here."

"Of course, she's here and not going anywhere."

Emily nodded and tried to relax as Monash came closer. He leant down as he stood by the bed until they were eye-to-eye before he held a finger up. "Just follow this," he said calmly. Emily didn't argue as he moved his hand back-and-forth, not once looking away, wanting this to be over and done with. Monash had his own stethoscope out now and pressed it against her skin, careful not to touch the clover for which she was thankful. A quick temperature check finalised the tests and he pulled across one of the chairs JJ had been sleeping on and sat down at her side.

"Okay. First things first. Can you tell me where you are right now?" he asked.

Emily fought the urge to roll her eyes. "In the hospital," she answered drily.

He grinned, making it impossible to resent his questioning. "Correct. And what's the last thing you remember?"

"I was on a case in London which led me to New York," she stopped mid-sentence and shook her head. "It's not complete and I need to know if you have clearance…"

JJ got off the phone and moved forward to stand at Monash's side. She was crying, Emily noticed, tear tracks on her cheeks. "He's fine, Emily," she assured her with a soft smile, wiping away the tear trail with her hand. "I promise."

Emily winced as she swallowed, and JJ grabbed the water jug on the table to pour her a glass of water that she pressed into her hand. Emily drank quickly before answering.

"Interpol have been aware of a killer who is emulating 'famous' serial killers. He was previously in Russia and is now in London, copying Jack-the-Ripper. A police officer from Scotland yard was killed. I tried to get him but… but he got away."

JJ and Monash exchanged concerned looks and it was JJ who spoke next.

"No, Emily," she said softly, the tears starting again. "Your last case was Ian Doyle and…"

"Ian Doyle is dead," Emily interrupted. "A long time ago."

" _No_ ," JJ disagreed, shaking her head, causing several tears to land on Emily's sheets. "You were severely injured _by_ Doyle. You lost blood, suffered massive head trauma and internal injuries…"

"I know that," Emily snapped, "but…"

" _Emily_ ," JJ said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You've been here, in a coma for the past three months."

Emily blinked, taken aback. "Where is 'here'?" she asked finally.

"In Washington," answered JJ. "We've kept everything quiet. The team…"

"Think I'm dead," Emily finished, "you gave me money in Paris."

JJ bit her bottom lip and brushed away new tears before responding. _"No,_ Emily. Why would we do that?"

Emily swallowed, wishing she had more water. JJ silently took the empty glass from her hand and filled it, giving it back to her with a small smile. Emily stared back, dumbfounded. "But, JJ… we were in Paris. You gave me identification and…"

JJ closed her eyes for a brief second and reached out to place a hand on Emily's shoulder. "Emily, that didn't happen."

Emily blinked as she felt her throat tighten and reached upward to clasp JJ's hand. "Jayje," she whispered. "I don't understand what's going on."

The blonde gestured for Monash to move so she could sit in his place. "Emily," she answered, not letting go of her hand. "Doyle kidnapped you. He beat you, smashed your head against the concrete floor and the head injuries were… god, I have no idea how you're even conscious. Nearly everyone was sure you'd never open your eyes again."

Emily turned her face away, stared at the white wall opposite. This didn't make any sense. She had recovered, done rehab, been through a judicial hearing, been reemployed by Clyde. She lived in London now. That had all happened… hadn't it? JJ traced circles on her hand and tucked a strand of hair behind Emily's ear as her shoulders began to shake.

"Em," JJ breathed, "I don't know how to explain this but you've been out for three months and…" She paused, and took a deep breath. "It's complicated. But you will get through it. The team will be ecstatic you've awoken." She gave a small grin. "We take turns at night," she admitted, nodding toward the line of chairs. "Reid will be disappointed he missed you waking."

Emily closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to make any sense of what was happening. The last thing she remembered was JJ's hand, squeezing hers, as a chill ran from her skull, through her body, towards her toes and blackness engulfed her again.

* * *

 **Author's notes:** I have no idea how long this will be and I apologise in advance for updating times. Hope you enjoyed nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1.**

* * *

" _It is a very mixed blessing to be brought back from the dead."_

 _\- Kurt Vonnegut_

* * *

Rain fell heavily, a dull ' _tick'_ in the background. Garcia scrubbed cups and saucers beneath soapy water as she peered through the shutters of her apartment. In the corner of the courtyard, trying unsuccessfully to hide her cigarette, Emily paced up-and-down, the corners of her jacket turned upward in a bid to stop water from dribbling down her neck. Garcia's shut her eyes for a moment, bit her bottom lip. Emily had been with her for a fortnight now and every evening, at the same time, no matter the weather, would excuse herself from the table and make her way into the courtyard. Once there, she'd light a cigarette and pace until it was finished.

This evening was no different.

Garcia pulled the plug from the sink and leaned against the bench, watching the water as it drained away. It had been Hotch who had suggested that Emily stay with her until she was… if not fully recovered, then somewhat more like the woman she had been.

" _She can't stay with her mother,"_ Morgan had said at the conference table once Emily had been given the all clear. _"That would end in disaster."_

" _Or alone,"_ Reid added.

" _No,"_ Hotch agreed. _"That's true. What we need is someone she feels comfortable with. Someone she trusts. And someone who won't be stepping in and out of a jet every second day."_

The team had been looking at her before Hotch had even finished his sentence. Less than a second later, looking at their faces, she had agreed. Emily hadn't seemed to care when she was told, simply nodded her head and asked JJ to bring her a set of clothes from her apartment. Garcia had made up the spare room, hung Emily's clothes in the corner closet, thrown a hand-made quilt over the bed. It wasn't much like Emily's bedroom in her own apartment but it was… cosy, homey. And hopefully what she needed.

Garcia's door opened and Emily stepped inside, wiped her feet on the mat and hung up her coat.

"I'm going to bed," she said softly.

Garcia nodded, offered a small smile. "Of course."

-o-

The bureau-therapist raised an eyebrow, leaned forward.

"I'm not following," he admitted. "How does this relate to...?"

Garcia rolled her eyes, looked around the room. It was much like any other therapist's office she'd ever been in. Bland wall colour, certificates on the wall, family photographs on the desk.

"I'm just saying she's so… _different_ ," she answered finally. "She isn't the Emily I know."

"That's hardly surprising," the therapist pointed out. "She's been in hospital a very long time."

Garcia took a deep breath, trying to stop tears from spilling from her eyes. "I know, but…" Her sentence trailed off as she regained her thoughts. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Before she came to my house, JJ took me out for coffee. She was crying…"

-o-

"She's so thin," JJ said, tears running freely down her cheeks.

The staff looked over the counter, concern on their faces, but JJ didn't seem to care. That in itself was odd, JJ was nothing if not private. But Emily waking up seemed to have shaken her.

"Well, she hasn't really moved…" Garcia began, reaching across to grab JJ's hand.

"But, this?" JJ interrupted. "This is just… god, I don't know how to explain it." JJ leant back in her seat, took several deep breaths. "She was getting out of the pool, you see," she continued. "The physio said to began with non-weight-bearing activity so I went down to see her." JJ clenched her coffee cup, glanced at the ceiling. "And she was just hopping out, using the ladder. In a normal bathing suit, but I could see every rib, there's no muscle, no nothing. She's a walking skeleton."

Garcia squeezed JJ's hand, passed her a tissue to wipe away the tears and smudged mascara. "Then I'll feed her up, JJ," she said. "It will be food galore at my house."

JJ hiccupped, trying to laugh. "You're going to have to."

(It should have worked. There was food everywhere, fruit in the centre of the table, Garcia's pantry was so full it was almost bursting. But Emily ate next-to-nothing. She would push her food around in a show of eating, but rarely take a bite.)

-o-

"And she's been reading the case files," JJ said, scrunching the tissue and placing it next to her now-finished coffee.

"How did she get those?" Garcia asked.

JJ shrugged. "Someone left one there? I'm not sure. But she asked me today how we were doing with our latest."

 _How we were doing with our latest._

Garcia looked across at the therapist, wanting to tell him how those words had sent a chill down her spine. How she knew that _something_ was odd from that moment on.

She did none of these things. Instead, she spun the therapist a line about being concerned for her friend's well-being and nothing more.

She knew he'd bought it when he told her it was a perfectly natural reaction. That she should worry less.

She offered a smile as he wrote a final note in his file. "I will. Thank you."

-o-

Garcia dried the now-clean items in her sink and took her time putting them away. She could hear Emily moving about in her room, getting changed, taking yet another book from her ever-growing pile brought to her by Reid, preparing for bed. Garcia lingered in the living room, glancing over her shoulder occasionally until the light beaming from underneath her spare room door was gone.

Even then, she waited another half-hour before rising to her feet and opening Emily's door. Her friend lay face-down, her arms and legs thrown out as if she'd jumped onto the mattress and not moved. She was shaking in her sleep, words escaping her lips ever-so-often. Murmurs of 'Ian', 'Declan' and not much else. Garcia leaned against the door frame, her throat tight. JJ had been right; Emily had lost a drastic amount of weight and it was obvious in the satin slip she wore to bed.

"Ian, get the hell away from me!"

Garcia didn't move from the doorway as Emily screamed out. She had learned the hard way the first night Emily had stayed with her to let nightmares run their natural course. Afterward, she'd make hot chocolate, encourage Emily to take at least a sip, but during…

" _Christ, baby girl! What happened?"  
_ _A pause. "Emily."_

Garcia raised her hand, touched her fingertips to the bruise across her cheek.

"Ian!"

Emily woke with a start and scrambled until she was crouched against the wall, ready to spring. Her frantic eyes darted around the room until they landed on Garcia. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and she made a visible effort to control her breathing, offered Garcia a tiny smile.

"I hope this stops soon," she said, stepping up from the bed.

Garcia nodded, not fooled as Emily took a surreptitious glance out the window, searching for someone, _anyone_ that might be in the street. She turned back to Garcia and walked across the room, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't hurt you…?" she asked softly.

Garcia grabbed Emily's hand, squeezed. "No."

Emily's shoulders shook as she exhaled a long breath, looked at the ceiling. "Thank god." She smiled, letting go of Garcia's hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll put the milk on," she whispered.

Garcia's mouth pulled upward in a smile. "Sure."

Emily nodded and walked past her through the hallway. She still had her former agility, like someone adept in a boxing ring. Garcia followed and sat down at the table as Emily moved around the kitchen. Soon milk was boiling on the stove and she poured both herself and Garcia a cup that she placed in front of the tech analyst. Garcia watched her as she took a sip. Her head injuries had been severe and a large chunk of her hair had been shorn off. When she'd looked at herself in the mirror for the first time, she'd requested a pair of scissors and cut the rest off at the base of her skull so it barely reached beneath her ears. It made her look… different, younger, more innocent.

All of which could not be further from the truth.

"This latest case is odd," Emily commented, blowing on her hot chocolate.

Garcia shrugged her shoulders, said nothing.

"What do the team think?" Emily pressed.

Garcia took a sip of chocolate, placed the cup back on the table. "You seem to know a lot about it."

Emily tilted her head to the side, frowned. "What does that mean?"

Garcia shrugged again. "Honestly, Emily? I'm not really sure."

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 **Author's notes:** An odd chapter. Back-and-forth time-wise and quite short. The chapters will get longer as the story progresses. We're just getting into it.

Hope you enjoyed, folks! Please review.


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